There is something so lulling in the sound of the sea. Yet the way it can be a calming song or destructive nightmare is something so curious. Perhaps if the sea was a person, it would be an old, bearded and happy man with so many millions of years worth of stories to share that we’ll otherwise never know. The seaspray on our cheeks woke us up as if we’d been drifting around half-asleep for so long. We sat and watched the tide come in with stinging fingers that gloves could not even warmly embrace. In that hazy shade of grey winter everything felt like a slow motion film. There was a quiet talk about maybe one day owning an old wooden rowing boat and having a little house by the sea. At night in summer we open our bedroom window and lie on the bed pretending the dull hum of the city motorway in the distance is actually the sea. One day it would be nice for it to be a reality. If we could cartwheel, I’m sure we would’ve done in happiness along the tide.